When It Rains
by Sora Livana
Summary: A trip to arrest somebody has disastrous consequences for the NCIS team as the weather gets increasingly worse... will they survive? And, more importantly, will anybody notice if they haven't?
1. To Hell We Ride

**_A/N: A multi-chapter fanfiction I started writing on a Saturday afternoon purely because I had nothing else to do. I intend to update regularily, but it will completely depend on how hectic life is being... Oh well, enjoy!_**

**_Disclaimer: NCIS and it's characters do not belong to me... I just like torturing them :D_**

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Chapter 1  
To Hell We Ride

Rain pounded down onto the pavement, lashing the black sedan as it drove past, its tyres screeching as it swung around a corner at yet another empty junction. High winds tore at the surrounding trees, tossing them back and forth as if they were nothing more than blades of grass. Telephone and electricity cables swung dangerously as the storm attacked mercilessly, at risk of being pulled down completely by the ferocious gales.

The road was practically flooded, the torrential rain having overflowed the drains and resulted in the rising water having nowhere else to go. Large puddles, now resembling small rivers, engulfed the tarmac track, making traveling almost impossible, and not something any sane person would even consider attempting.

But then, some people had jobs to do, regardless of the weather.

The car tore down yet another drowning road; seemingly oblivious to how dangerous their job was actually turning out to be. On every corner, the driver struggled to right the vehicle once more before carrying on, and hoped that their ride through hell would soon be over. Before long, the main road turned off into a smaller, gravel one, making their journey all the more difficult, and all the more risky.

Within the car, a conversation was taking place.

--

"Oh, com'on Probie! Don't tell me you've never heard of Twister! Everybody's heard of Twister!" McGee gave an exasperated sigh, wondering why he even bothered listening anymore. In the driver's seat sat Ziva, concentrating on the waterlogged road, yet still managing to travel at death-defying speeds. Then, even further into the depths of his mind, he wondered when it had all become so normal, and when he'd actually stopped caring about Tony's movie references and Ziva's crazy driving.

"Made in 1996," Tony continued, not even noticing that McGee hadn't answered, " Helen Hunt plays Dr. Jo Harding, the leader of a storm chasing research team. They spend their time chasing twisters, while she remembers her dad, who was killed in one when she was younger…" He trailed off, a look of childish glee on his face as he replayed the movie in his mind. Outside the car, rain could be heard still, pounding on the drenched ground. Ziva squinted, trying to take a look out of the windscreen.

"The roads are bad. We may not be able to go much further."

"What do you mean? The roads are _fine_." At these words, they left the gravel road and turned onto a mud track with a loud thud, the car stalling for a few seconds as its tyres tried to get a grip on the unfamiliar surface. Usually, the vehicle would have had no problem, but the horrendous weather was a great hindrance, and its performance suffered for it. After several, long moments, it found traction and was on its way again, albeit a lot more slowly than before. A few minutes pause, and then McGee voiced the question that was on all of their minds'.

"What exactly are we doing, again?"

"What the boss-man's told us to go, McGoo." Tony replied, his face lighting up at the opportunity to annoy his colleague. "We've gotta arrest a one Adam Clarke, for stealing a truck-load 'a money from a rich Navy Widow."

"Yes, but why now? Wouldn't it be safer to wait until the storm was over?" Through the window he could see the branches from roadside trees swinging in the strong winds, on several occasions coming within inches on the car in which they sat.

"Of _course_ it would, " Ziva interjected irritably, "but Gibbs _insisted_ that we go now."

"Would it have killed him to say please?" Tony grumbled, reclining back into his chair, wincing every time they went over a bump. In the back of the car, McGee sat with his laptop resting on his knees.

"No signal. The connection must be down." Nobody answered him, knowing full well that the storm would have caused damage all over the surrounding area. From radio reports that they'd heard whilst still within the safety of NCIS headquarters, they knew that the storm had a radius of at least 50 miles.

In essence, it was once hell of a storm.

The rain intensified, pounding on the metal exterior of the car like bullets from an automatic weapon. The water on the road was now approaching about a foot deep, and they all gave a sigh of relief as the car began to struggle up a slight slope, and out of the worst of it. A look of distaste crossed Tony's face.

"I hope our man's not gone walkabouts by the time we get there. I don't wanna damage my -" He was cut off by yet another loud thump, this one resounding throughout the inside of the vehicle. An unhealthy sound came from within the engine, and he cringed as it steadily got louder. "We'd better get there fast, Zeeeva." He drawled out her name, but got no response besides a long, withering look.

The wind continued to howl.

--

The road steadily began to grow smaller, and from McGee's directions they knew that there were only a couple more miles left until they reached the shack in which Clarke was hiding out. With any luck, Gibbs would meet them there after the arrest, and then they could get to work with processing the house. The car drove over yet another one of the increasingly common rises on the road and, as they reached the top, they couldn't help but gasp involuntarily.

"Damn." Tony voiced all of their thoughts.

Before them lay a rickety wooden bridge, the water beneath it swollen, and its banks looking ready to burst. The current was strong, and the actual colour of the water a light brown, probably from all of the mud that it had carved from the landscape in the past few hours. The three of them gaped at it. Finally, Ziva spoke up.

"Well it seems we have two choices. Either we can turn back and face Gibbs, or we can carry on." Tony seemed to finally find his voice.

"To be honest, the last one sounds more appealing…" Ziva snorted, but personally agreed. You did not disobey Gibbs. Easing her foot on the accelerator, they made their way forwards.

The car slowly began to make its way onto the bridge. As they rolled onto the wooden structure, they gave a collective wince as it creaked loudly and ominously, but sighed with relief as it held their weight. Driving steadily, they all tried their best to ignore the raging water that lay only feet beneath them, imagining the feel of dry land underfoot. As they slowly passed the halfway point of the bridge, they began to release all of the air that they had trapped within their lungs, and began to breathe again.

A loud creak resonated through the car.

They didn't even have time to scream before the planks upon which their car sat gave way, and sent them tumbling into the raging waters below.

Tumbling to their deaths.

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**_A/N: XD I'm an evil author. I will update soon, but reviews will make me do so faster... -hint hint nudge nudge-_**


	2. A Million Miles

_**A/N: Here's chapter two! I know it's not much, but I'm building up to something... I promise! :P**_

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A Million Miles

The windscreen wipers moved across the glass, attempting to make the road even remotely visible. The storm had, of the past few minutes, got increasingly worse and all the more dangerous for those fool-hardy enough to be out in it. The roads were now non-existent, the raging water that had replaced them illuminated every so often by flashes of lightening that lit up the sky, and only deemed to make the weather all the more ominous.

Large, oppressive thunderclouds could be felt, though not seen, above, and the random flashes of forked light only served to make it all more disorientating.

A feeling he did not like.

The car slid down the tarmac road, swerving from side to side. Not that it mattered; there were no other cars out. Nobody was crazy enough to leave their homes in this sort of weather, and for good reasons.

Inside the car, Gibbs sat at the drivers' wheel, impatience etched in his face. He would have preferred it had they left the arrest until another day, when the weather wasn't quite as bad. Unfortunately, a promise was a promise, and not something he was willing to break. He'd given the old lady his word, and he intended on keeping it.

Having let them drive on ahead, he expected to find his team already at the house, their perpetrator arrested and the hunt for the money, which totaled to a couple of million in cash (Gibbs couldn't help but shake his head at the thought of somebody keeping that amount of money at their home, but the Navy widow had been quite eccentric) most probably already found, or at least close to being so. However, the worsening weather had made the journey to his destination all the more difficult, and all the more frustrating.

Pushing his foot down on the accelerator, he cursed silently to himself, and then out loud at the pounding rain against his car. He hoped that his team were fine, after all, Ziva was a competent driver and had been in worst situations, but in his gut something felt wrong. He didn't know quite why, but a feeling of foreboding had taken over him.

So absorbed he was in his own thoughts, he almost missed the flash of headlights. Strangely enough, however, they weren't actually on the road. Instead, the vehicle was stationary on the verge. Slamming on the breaks, Gibbs' struggled to control the car on the drenched surface, but before long it came to a standstill. Not even pausing, he got out of the car to find out who the other vehicle's occupants were, why they were there, and if anyone was injured. Instinctively, he reached for the Sig Sauer, holstered at his waist.

It never hurt to be too careful.

Opening the car door, and not even attempting to shield himself from the rain, he moved as quickly as he could towards the other car. Avoiding the blinding glare of the headlights, he swung around to the side of it and rapped his knuckles on the driver's side window. Gun still clutched in his hand, and the rain still throwing down on him, he waited for a response.

After a few, long seconds, the tinted window rolled down slightly. Through the small gap, he could see a woman's face, pale, with a spattering of freckles. Without saying anything, she indicated the passenger door, and wound it back up again. Finding her behaviour slightly peculiar, he quickly made his way into the car, and out of the pouring rain. However, before he'd even closed the door, a gun was in his face.

But he was ready.

Before the woman had even a chance of acknowledging it, her gun was lying harmlessly on the back seat, and Gibbs' gun was aimed at her head. She gave out a sob.

"Pl-ple-please don't hurt me…" The words were forced out, and she looked close to breaking down. Sighing, he reached for his pocket. She flinched violently. Moving slowly, as to show that he wouldn't harm her, he pulled out his identification, and held it in front of her face. He gave a sob of relief, burying her face in her hands. Taking the opportunity, he spoke.

"Why are you here?" She sniffed.

"I was on my way home form my parents, but…" She drifted off. Gently, he pressed her.

"'But' what?"

"My car just doesn't seem to work… I tried to ring someone, but my phone's dead." Gibbs sighed inwardly, noticing how the lady flinched again as a flash of lightening illuminated the interior of the car.

"What's your name?"

"Amy Woodbridge. You can just call me Amy, though…" There was an internal battle raging within Gibbs; to go and be with his team or to wait with Amy. In the end, the latter won. Loathing the delay, he took out his mobile.

"Right, Amy. I doubt any mechanics'll come out in this weather, so I'm going to call a friend of mine who lives nearby. You can stay with him until the worst is over, okay?" She nodded.

He dialled a number.

"Yeah, Fornell…"

--

The rain had intensified, and driving conditions had deteriorated even further, if that was possible. Back in his own car, he winced slightly as the road made the transition from gravel to mud, hindering his journey all the more. The track was like a river of mud, and so deep he could actually feel his feet getting wet. Feeling relieved as he made his way over a small hillock, he froze at the sight before him.

The bridge.

And the giant chasm on the one side of it.

Forcing his heart to still, he did not bother jumping out of his car, as so many people would. Unlike some, he trusted what he saw, and did not need to be drenched again that night. Instead, he took the practical approach, and once again took out his mobile. Dialling an all-too familiar number, it didn't even ring, going straight to the answer phone.

_Hey! You've reached Tony! Leave a message and I'll call ya back!_

Cursing, he dialled yet another familiar number.

_This is Ziva David. Leave a message, and I'll return your call._

It was the same with McGee's number. No ring tone, and straight to answer phone. At loss of what to do, he just sat there for a few minutes, mentally running through whether he'd seen any other cars on his way there. But he hadn't, not besides the woman, and it was the only way back to the headquarters, so they hadn't turned back.

That meant that two things could've happened.

Firstly, that they had gotten across they bridge, and were stuck on the other side, or secondly, that the car had been on the bridge when it had given way. The chasm looked too conveniently sized for him to disregard this idea, and he knew that if they'd made it across, he would've gotten through to at least one of them.

Staring at the remains of the structure before him, he made the call that he'd been dreading.

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**_A/N: Reviews make me happy, and when I'm happy I update quicker! Oh, and I'll take this opportunity to thank those who took the time to review my last chapter... Cheers! :)_**


	3. Sway

**_A/N: Well, here's chapter 3! It's not as long as the previous two, but I like writing in this sort of way... Enjoy!_**

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**Sway**

The first thing that he was aware of as he woke was the excruciating pain, shooting mercilessly up his left leg. Next, the chill that had settled within his bones, making him shudder with every gasping breath. His lungs felt raw, as though he had never recovered from his bout with the plague, and pain shook him with every short gasp. He could manage nothing more than that and, slowly, he could feel his body being starved of oxygen. Aware that he had to move, at least into a better position, so that he could get the air that he so desperately needed, he tried to shift his aching body, but to no avail.

He couldn't move.

He could even feel his fingers.

Panic coursed through his body, travelling with the blood that now moved so slowly around his veins. Lying there on the drenched ground, feeling the rain pattering on his face, yet not seeing it, he knew only one thing.

He was going to die.

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Consciousness came slowly to Ziva, dragging her kicking and screaming into reality. Her blood felt as though it had turned to ice, and her drenched clothes chilled her as the wind blew gently. Pushing herself into what was technically an upright position, her Mossad training took over and, looking around, she took in her surroundings. She was in a clearing, with several trees in various positions (not all necessarily vertical) around her. The ground was waterlogged, squelching with every slight movement that she made, and there was no sign of any life besides her.

"Tony! McGee!" Her voice sank into nothingness, absorbed by the chaos that the storm had left behind. There was no response. She tried again. Nothing.  
Above her dark grey, almost black, clouds loomed, and she realised that they hadn't been in any ordinary storm. No, they'd been caught in a hurricane, and now they were in the eye.

Soon, the destruction would start again.

Forcing herself to her feet, she knew she had to find her colleagues before that time came.

She hoped that they, too, had survived.

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His body grew colder, and his breathing more ragged. He had a feeling that he was injured, but he could no longer feel anything besides the aching in his chest. All he could do was lie there and listen, hoping that someone, or even something, would find him.

He didn't want to die.

Lying there, it occurred to him that the others, his friends, might not have survived. In his heart, despite the fact that he wasn't religious, and never had been, he prayed for them. Even if he didn't survive, they deserved to.

They'd always been too good for him.

Around him he could feel water, trickling past him. From this he could tell that he was on a slight incline. The rain had now stopped, but the wind still continued. Large gusts of it, catching his soaked clothes. He knew that he should feel cold whenever this happened.

But he didn't.

Maybe he was already dead?

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Her footsteps pounded on the muddy ground, and on several occasions she narrowly avoided slipping, an action that would probably result in a broken bone, at least. She didn't know where she was going, instead simply following her gut, hoping it would lead her to one of her friends.

Alive, preferably.

The silence around her was scary; no birdsong, no wind whispering in the trees. It was like everything was dead; the storm had killed it all.

She shuddered, as a slight breeze made its way over the ravaged land. Somewhere, in the depths of her mind, she wondered whether Gibbs even knew they were missing. Maybe he just though they'd turned back.

She hoped he knew.

Gibbs would save them. He always did.

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_You'll end up in the gutter. You're worthless.  
_  
The words of his father, spoken years ago, and forever trapped in his memories, rose in his mind. The water still ran past him, and he would have laughed at the irony of it, if he'd been able to. It wasn't quite a gutter, but it was damn close.

He guessed his father had been right. He always had been.

And, thinking of his father…

Gibbs.

Had he even noticed that they were gone? That was a silly question. Of course he knew; Gibbs knew _everything, _though not in the same way that his father had pretended to. His father had been a drunk. A rich drunk. He _made_ everything he said right, not like Gibbs.

Gibbs knew everything.

He knew that Tony was there, lying on the ground, close to death. Close enough, at least, to recall memories that he had long forgotten, memories that he had no actual _wish_ to remember.

Oh yes, Gibbs knew. And, soon, he'd come.

He'd always wished Gibbs's had been his real father.

He'd always wished that he'd been loved.

_-_--

She carried on walking, regardless to the chill in her bones, regardless to the fact that her fingers were growing numb. She carried on, the only thing keeping her going being the faint hope that, just maybe, one of them had survived.

Hope's always been one of the good aspects of human character.

The forest grew a bit deeper. Here, trees still stood, but she had a feeling that once the calm had passed that would change. They were strong but, from what she'd experienced, the storm was stronger.

Much stronger.

Wait, what was that?

There was a figure, lying a few metres in front of her, almost hidden by the ravaged foliage.

It wasn't moving.

She approached cautiously, and gave an involuntary gasp.

Tony.

Forsaking all caution, she ran towards him, stumbling every now and again on pieces of forest rubble. She fell to her knees as she reached him, and turned him from his side onto his back.

His eyes were closed, and there was a blue tinge to his face.

She couldn't see him breathing.

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_**A/N: As a fanfiction author, I am at liberty to leave you with as many cliffhangers as I like, so nah :P**_

_**Please review, and constructive critism IS welcome!**_


	4. Heaven for the weather, hell for the

_**A/N: Oh wow, it's been MONTHS since I last updated... Blame a ton of exams (both real and mocks) and a whole load of coursework. It didn't help that my muse went and wondered off, either...**_

_**Oh well, sorry for the long update, and sorry for the short length - I don't seem to be capable of actually writing long chapters . Anyways, enjoy!**_

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**Heaven for the Weather, Hell for the Company  
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It was the deep throbbing in his head that finally dragged him into consciousness. Opening his eyes wearily, the sudden sunlight blinded him, only helping to make his headache all the worse. His seatbelt was still on, and felt impossibly tight around his chest. Fumbling around with numb fingers, it took him several long minutes before he finally found the clasp and freed himself.

Dazed, he sat there in the sodden car seat, trying to get his mind into even a semblance of normality. After a few moments gathering his thoughts, he forced himself to his feet, wincing as pain shot up from his ankle. He guessed that it was twisted, but he wasn't sure. And he didn't particularly want to look to find out either – he'd always been rather squeamish. Looking at his surroundings, he was overwhelmed by shock.

The car.

Or, more accurately, what was _left _of the car, and there wasn't all that much.

The front of it had completely gone. Where? He wasn't quite sure, but he guessed that they had hit something hard whilst in the river - maybe a large tree - which had torn it completely from the rest of the vehicle. Staring at the wreckage, McGee felt his stomach drop impossibly low. If the front of the car was gone, where were Ziva and Tony? Frantically looking around, he was overcome by loneliness as he saw the ruins of the forest, and absolutely no sign of his colleagues. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm himself; to think objectively about his situation, but it was to no avail. Choosing no particular direction, he began to walk, clambering over any muddy piles of debris that got in his way.

He needed to find them.

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He strode into the NCIS headquarters, his direction purposeful, and disregarding of anybody who got in his way. Making his way up the steps and to the Director's office, he didn't even notice that Cynthia said not a word (as she usually did with his abrupt visits) – she simply sent a sympathetic look his way before returning to her work. Striding into the Director's office he said nothing, waiting for the Director to finish her call. Her conversation ended quickly and, putting the phone back into its holder, she turned to look at him.

"I've heard about your agents." He said nothing, so she carried on. "I assure you, Jethro, we'll do everything to find them. We have men on foot and helicopters looking for them, along with a team of dogs searching downstream." She watched him, gauging his reaction.

"They're not dead, Jen." He suddenly looked very tired. "I'd know if they were." She gave him a reassuring smile.

"Then I _promise _you Jethro, we'll find them alive."Standing up, she approached him, and it took all of her will to resist embracing him, like she had all those years ago. Instead, she simply rested her hand on his shoulder.

And that was all he needed.

--

Stepping out of the elevator, he was shocked by the unnatural silence. Usually the air was filled with some obscene beat (at least, to his ears) or another, but now the silence was practically deafening. Walking through the doors and into the lab, he didn't need to announce his arrival.

"Gibbs! Have you – "

"I'm sorry, Abbs. There's been no news so far." The look on her face was heartbreaking, and it was at times like these that he wished she'd get up the nerve to tell his youngest agent what she really though of him.

Screw rule number 12.

"I'm going out to search. Stay here. I'll contact you on the thingy-" Here he gestured vaguely at the computer, "- if we find anything." At this point he turned to walk away, but before he could leave he felt the air being crushed out of him.

"Promise you'll find them. _All_ of them." He paused.

"I promise, Abbs."

She believed him.

--

He slithered over a mud-covered log, not bothering to hold in a short gasp as pain shot all the way through his damaged leg. Here the trees were growing thicker, and they had – seemingly – sustained less damage from the flooded river than other areas of the woods. Admittedly a few younger trees, saplings, hadn't taken the storm so well, but to McGee the sight was heart-warming. If some simple vegetation could survive, a hardened assassin such as Ziva and a skilled investigator like Tony could survive too, right? Heck! _He'd _survived, and he was the most inept of the team. He smiled, but it was forced. McGee was at home with machines, and he'd learnt a lot from them. Statistics and such, and he knew the likelihood of his colleagues being alive after what had happened.

He shouldn't get his hopes up until he knew for sure.

The ground beneath him steadily grew more solid, and the foliage thicker. The debris that had been common before now gradually disappeared, and common sense told McGee that he had gone past the point from which the river had burst. He knew from previous research (whilst he was in the car, as it happened) that the banks of this particular river were rather steep until about half a mile before where the bridge had once been. Recalling this snippet of information left him shocked. He'd walked more than half a mile? (Definitely more, after all, he'd been washed downstream). Not that he'd really noticed – after the first few steps, the burning in his legs had been so strong he had no longer paid attention to the passing time, and a broken watch simply served to make that all the more difficult.

Breaking through a large (and very spiky) bush, he fell flat on his face, ending up with a mouthful of damp soil. Raising his head, he took into account the large clearing before him, the ramshackle wooden building on the verge of falling down, and the shadowed figure approaching him.

Something silver glinted in the sunlight.

A blinding pain ripped through his skull, and everything went dark.


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